Parental Rights
by heisey
Summary: Sister Maggie persuades a reluctant Matt to befriend 11-year-old Tyler, who has arrived at the orphanage after losing his parents and his eyesight in a car crash. Then Matt learns the accident that blinded and orphaned Tyler was no accident. Post-Daredevil season 3.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

"You want me to do _what?"_ Matt demanded.

"You heard me," Sister Maggie replied patiently from behind the desk in her office. "He's a child, Matthew, an eleven-year-old boy who's experienced a terrible trauma. He needs our help, something you are uniquely qualified to give him."

"But I'm not," Matt protested, waving his hand. "I don't have the right training to help him. He needs someone who does, a therapist, someone like that."

"He's seeing a therapist," Maggie replied. "It's not helping. He doesn't listen to her. He says she's clueless."

"Just because we're both blind, that doesn't mean this kid and I have anything in common."

"That's not it," Maggie said crisply, "and you know it. His eyesight isn't the only thing he lost in that horrible accident. His parents died. He has no one, no one at all. He's all alone. You know what that's like."

"You're really going there?" Matt asked incredulously. "After – ?" He walked away from her, shaking his head. He stood next to the door with his back to her. "That takes a hell of a lot of – I think I need a stronger word than _chutzpah_."

"This isn't about you or me or what I did or didn't do," Maggie said to his back. "It's about a boy who's slipping away from us. If we don't reach him, and soon, I'm afraid we may lose him. I know you, Matthew. Your calling is helping people, just like mine."

"Not exactly," Matt muttered.

"Yes, it is. You got it from me."

Matt turned around, frowning. "I'm not really a role model."

"You're the best one we have," Maggie retorted.

"More like the only one," Matt grumbled.

"True," Maggie agreed. "But you don't need to be a role model. You made it through what he's going through. He needs to know he can, too. Will you at least meet him?"

"OK," Matt said resignedly. He knew he'd lost this round. "But I'm not making any promises. What's his name?"

"Tyler. Tyler Shelby."

* * *

As soon as the door to Maggie's office closed behind him and he started walking away, Matt decided he was making a big mistake. What the fuck could he do or say that would make things better for Tyler? He sure as hell wasn't going to repeat the pious platitudes and bullshit people spouted at him when he arrived at the orphanage, blind and alone. What happened to Tyler sucked, and Matt wouldn't sugar-coat it. If Tyler was angry, he had every right to be. Matt wasn't about to tell him any different. Maybe he should just tell Maggie to forget it. Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. And maybe there _was_ a chance he could help Tyler grow up less damaged than he was. He shrugged and continued on his way.

Back at the offices of Nelson & Murdock, Matt started preparing for the deposition of the driver of the cab that hit eight-year-old Joey Perez on West 46th Street, breaking his right leg in three places. But thoughts of another seriously injured boy kept intruding. He didn't have to imagine what Tyler was going through. He knew. He had lived it. The last thing Matt wanted to do was to relive those days. The days after his father's murder, when he was alone, drowning in grief and blindness and out-of-control senses. The days before Stick. Before he mastered his senses and learned other ways to see. But if he was going to help Tyler, he would have to go there.

Lost in his thoughts, Matt didn't notice Karen standing in the entrance to his makeshift office, until she tapped on the partition. "What?" he snapped.

Karen recoiled, taking a step back. "Foggy's making a sandwich run. Want anything from downstairs?"

"Wha – ? Uh, no, thanks," Matt replied. He didn't have the heart to tell Foggy, but the smells that wafted up to their temporary office space, above Nelson's Meats, killed his appetite.

"OK," Karen said. "Just askin'." She fell silent but stayed where she was. "You wanna tell me what's going on with you?" she asked. "You're usually in a good mood when you come back from talking to Maggie."

"So, what, you're monitoring my moods now?" Matt demanded.

"Of course we do," Karen declared. "It's our early warning system."

"Early warning of what? Me going off the deep end again?"

"Something like that," Karen confirmed. "I mean, it _has_ happened before . . . ."

Matt gave a pained half-smile. "Touché. But it's not happening again. You guys, you and Foggy, you keep me tethered to what's important, what's real. That's what brought me back, even if you didn't want to, at first."

"Touché, back at you." He heard the smile in her voice. "But old habits are hard to break. You've been pushing people away and shutting them out your whole life. Sister Maggie told me you did it when you were a kid. That's – " She fell silent when Matt's expression changed at the mention of Sister Maggie.

"What is it?" she asked. "Did something happen with Sister Maggie?"

Matt shook his head. "No. Not _with_ her, exactly."

"Then what?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Too bad, Murdock. Spill," Karen ordered.

Matt sighed. He knew Karen wouldn't stop until she got answers. "There's a boy, at the orphanage. He's struggling, having a really hard time. Maggie decided I could help him."

"Help him how?"

"There was an accident, a car crash. His parents were killed. Tyler – that's his name, Tyler – was injured."

"And – ?" Karen prompted him.

"He's blind."

"Jesus," Karen muttered.

"I doubt He had anything to do with it. But, yeah, Maggie thinks I can help him, for obvious reasons. She couldn't – she wouldn't – help me when I was struggling. But she expects me to help Tyler." He stood up and walked to the window.

"Oh, Matt," Karen breathed. "I don't know what to say."

He turned around. "You don't have to say anything." He grimaced, then added, "But you know what's really fucked up? I'm going to help Tyler, if I can. I don't want him to grow up to be me. He deserves better."

"Helping Tyler isn't fucked up."

"That's not it," Matt said, shaking his head. "Don't you see, Maggie's using me to deal with her guilt. If she gets me to help Tyler, she thinks she can atone for what she didn't do when I was a kid. And I'm going along with it. That's what's fucked up." He went back to his desk and sat down. "I don't see how I can help Tyler anyway," he said hopelessly.

Karen went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, Matt," she told him. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before she walked away.

* * *

In Maggie's office the following afternoon, Matt heard the tapping of Tyler's cane long before he turned into the corridor leading to the office. Still uncertain what he was going to do or say, Matt set his jaw and listened to the boy's approach. He stood up when the door opened. "Sister Ann," he said to the nun accompanying Tyler.

"Matthew," she replied, before addressing her charge. "Tyler, say hello to Mr. Murdock."

"Hi," he mumbled. From the sound of it, he was talking to the floor.

"Hey, Tyler," Matt said, then turned to the nun. "It's OK, Sister. We got this." She nodded and left them.

"You wanna sit?" Matt asked.

"Guess so." Still talking to the floor.

Matt guided Tyler's free hand to the top of a chair back, then sat down in a chair facing him. Not too close, he cautioned himself. "You can call me Matt," he told the boy.

"OK," Tyler replied grudgingly, then fell silent. Matt heard the anger and resentment in his voice. Well, he didn't want to be here any more than Tyler did. He would wait him out. If Tyler wanted to talk, he'd talk. If he didn't, so be it. At least he could tell Maggie he tried. He sat opposite Tyler and said nothing. The silence between them stretched into minutes. Then he sensed Tyler fidgeting, and his breathing changed. Finally he spoke. "Sister Maggie says you grew up here," Tyler said hesitantly.

"I did," Matt said gravely.

"And you're blind, like me."

"I am." Matt thought for a moment, then added, "Well, not exactly like you. Sister Maggie says you can see a little bit. I can't see anything."

"Oh." Talking to his shoes again. Then he raised his head. "But Sister Maggie says you're a lawyer."

"I am."

"How did you get to be a lawyer?" Maybe his curiosity was getting the better of him. Good.

"I went to school for a lot of years."

"How many?"

"Four years of college, then three years of law school after that. Then you have to pass the bar exam."

"Sounds hard."

"It is."

"How do I know you're really a lawyer?"

"You don't. It's not like I can show you my bar certificate."

"So, what, I'm just supposed to trust you?"

Matt sighed inwardly. Was he really having this conversation with an eleven-year-old? "Basically, yes, I guess. Why, do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I dunno," Tyler replied. "But people, they lie to me, like, all the time."

"You mean sighted people?"

"Yeah. Why do they do that?"

Matt thought for a minute. "I'm not sure. Maybe because they can. And maybe some of them are – " He stopped himself before he said "assholes." "– maybe some of them are just jerks." He knew where Tyler was coming from. If you were blind, you had to trust people to tell you about what you couldn't see for yourself. Even he did. His heightened senses only went so far. He had to trust his sighted friends to tell him about things his senses couldn't detect. At least he knew when they were lying to him. Tyler didn't have that ability.

"I hate them!" Tyler blurted out. "All of them!"

"Who?"

"The other kids." Tyler sniffled and wiped his eyes. Matt could sense the salt and moisture in the tears he was trying not to shed. "They take my stuff and hide it, then lie to the sisters about it. No one believes me, because I didn't _see_ anything."

Matt knew what that was like. "There's no one to back you up?" he asked gently.

Tyler shook his head. "No. I had a friend, his name was Marcus, but he left. He got adopted."

"Yeah, it happens." Matt remembered, all too well. When he first came to the orphanage, he made friends. One by one, they were adopted and left, all of them. Eventually, he stopped trying to make friends and rebuffed the kids who tried to make friends with him. It wasn't worth it, if they were just going to leave. And Stick had taught him friends would make him weak. He still believed that, back then.

"You weren't adopted?" Tyler asked.

"No," Matt replied. He'd known he was never going to be adopted. No one wanted a blind kid who was always getting into trouble for fighting.

"No one's gonna adopt me, either," Tyler declared. "I'm stuck here." Matt could hear him fiddling with his cane. Suddenly, he slammed it down on the floor. "I hate this!" he exclaimed.

"What do you hate?" Matt asked quietly.

"Everything. This place, the other kids, the sisters, being blind. I can't do _anything_. I miss my mom and dad. It all sucks." This time, he couldn't hold back his angry tears. Matt's heart ached for him. He was just a kid. No child should have to endure such pain.

"I know," Matt said quietly. "But – " He hesitated, not sure what to say next. He could tell Tyler that time would dull the pain of his parents' deaths, and he would learn to live with his blindness. But he was pretty sure Tyler didn't want to hear that.

Tyler wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve. "So is this where you tell me being blind isn't so bad, and it's all part of God's plan?"

Matt chuckled mirthlessly. "No. And you shouldn't let anyone else tell you that, either."

"But they do," Tyler protested. "The sisters say stuff like that all the time."

"Well, they're wrong," Matt told him, secretly pleased to be undermining the sisters' authority. "Being blind _does_ suck – a lot of the time. You and me, we didn't get a say in what happened to us. And that sucks, too."

"What happened to you?" Tyler asked, sounding curious again.

"I was in an accident, like you. A truck crashed, and some chemicals it was carrying spilled on me. They got in my eyes, and – " He snapped his fingers. After a moment, he added, "God had nothing to do with it. He didn't blind me. A man did, the one who made the chemicals."

"Did he ever get caught?"

"He did. Some of my, uh, friends helped me catch him. He's in prison now."

"You didn't kill him? I would've killed him," Tyler declared.

"No, I didn't," Matt told him. "Killing him wouldn't change what happened. It wouldn't give me my sight back. But if I killed him, I wouldn't be me anymore. I would be a killer. Do you understand?"

"I guess so," Tyler said reluctantly. "Do you think you and your friends could find the man who caused my accident?"

Matt did a mental double-take. "What man?" he asked.

"The man in the other car," Tyler explained patiently. "Can you find him?"

"I don't know. Tell me about him." Matt was baffled. Maggie had told him the accident was a single-car crash on a back road on Long Island. The cops believed Tyler's dad fell asleep at the wheel, and the car went off the road. It hit a tree, rolled over several times, and went up in flames. Tyler was found outside the car, but no one knew how he had escaped from the vehicle.

"There were lights, like really, really bright lights, right behind us. And my dad was saying they were too bright, you know, they were blinding him, he couldn't see. Then there was a big thump, like something crashed into our car. My mom screamed. That's the last thing I remember."

"Son of a bitch," Matt thought. Tyler's heartbeat confirmed he was telling the truth – or the truth as he remembered it. If his memory was accurate, the accident that blinded him was no accident. "Did you tell the cops about the other car?"

"No," Tyler replied. "I only remembered later, after I talked to them."

"OK. We're going to find out what happened, me and my friends. But you need to do one thing for me."

"Sure."

"You have to promise not to tell anyone what you just told me. OK?"

"I promise," Tyler said solemnly.

Walking back to the office, Matt almost stumbled on the uneven sidewalk. He was finding it difficult to focus, for good reason. His conversation with Tyler had left him shaken, in more ways than one. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that someone had deliberately run the Shelby family car off the road. Who would target them, and why? He had no idea, but he was going to find out, whatever it took.

Then there was Tyler himself. His world had been shattered. His losses were so new, his grief so raw. As Matthew Murdock, Attorney at Law, and as Daredevil, he encountered people in pain all the time. It was part of the job description when you were trying to help people. He had learned to distance himself from their pain. It wasn't that he lacked empathy – far from it. But he couldn't do what he needed to do, both as an attorney and as Daredevil, if he let himself feel their pain too keenly. It was different with Tyler. Matt couldn't distance himself from Tyler's pain. It was his pain, too. And Tyler had been dealt a much harder hand than he had. Matt had had his father's love and support after he was blinded. Tyler lost his parents and his sight at the same time. Matt couldn't bring Tyler's parents back, but he would make sure Tyler knew he wasn't alone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

Karen looked up from her laptop when the office door opened. "How'd it go with Tyler?" she asked.

"His life sucks. Big surprise," Matt replied sarcastically. "Foggy not back yet?"

"He called. The depo ran long, but he's on his way."

"Good. We need to talk, all three of us, when he gets here," Matt said before disappearing behind the partition.

A few minutes later, he heard Foggy climbing the stairs. When the door opened, Matt stood up and walked out of his makeshift office to meet him. "We need to talk," Matt told him.

Foggy dropped his briefcase and fell wearily into the nearest chair. "Oof."

"Rough day?" Karen asked, sitting down in the chair next to his.

Foggy frowned. "You better believe it. Baker's attorney was totally clueless. He kept asking questions that were hurting his client and ours. I finally had to call for a break, so I could take him outside and explain the facts of life. Jesus, what an idiot." He shook his head. "So what's up?"

Matt sat on the table next to Foggy. "You know Maggie asked me to talk to a boy at the orphanage – "

Foggy nodded. "Yeah, Karen told me about him. How's he doing?"

Matt frowned. "Not good. Sad. Angry. Scared. And it's not like I can tell him everything's going to be OK, you know?"

When Foggy and Karen didn't say anything, Matt guessed there was some non-verbal communication between them that he couldn't detect. There seemed to be a lot of that going on, lately. "But there is something I – no, _we_ – can help him with," he said.

"What's that?" Karen asked.

"The car crash, it wasn't an accident."

"Omigod," Karen breathed.

"Son of a bitch," Foggy muttered simultaneously, then asked, "But how – ?"

"Tyler says there was another car," he said.

After Matt explained what Tyler had told him, Foggy asked, "Do you believe him?"

Matt thought for a minute, steepling his hands in front of his face. "Well, he wasn't lying. What he told me is what he remembers. It's possible he's remembering things wrong, but I believe him."

"But why would anyone want to harm Tyler and his family?" Karen asked.

Matt shook his head. "No idea."

"And it could have been something random, like road rage," Foggy suggested.

"True," Matt agreed. He took a few steps toward his office, then stopped and turned around. "But we need to find out, for Tyler's sake."

"Yes, we do," Karen said. "Do you know anything else, like where and when it happened?"

"Maggie said Tyler has been at the orphanage for about a month, and he was in the hospital and rehab for a couple of months before that. She also told me the crash happened somewhere on Long Island."

"OK, that helps. I'll start digging." Karen said.

By lunchtime the next day, Karen had tracked down several news reports on the car crash. None of them mentioned a second car, and details about the family were sparse. But she now had the date and place of the incident. She got up from her desk and went over to Foggy's makeshift office.

"Foggy?" she said, tapping on the partition.

He looked up from the motion he was writing. "What's up?"

"Do you think Brett would do us a favor?"

Foggy shrugged. "Maybe. We still have some markers we could call in. What do you need?"

"I was thinking Brett might have a contact in Suffolk County who could get copies of the reports on Tyler's accident – you know, things like police reports, witness statements, autopsy reports, his parents' death certificates . . . ."

"I'll ask him," Foggy replied, picking up his phone as she handed him her notes.

A day later, an email with multiple attachments landed in Karen's inbox. She scanned them as she downloaded them. "Oh, shit," she murmured when she spotted an entry on Mrs. Shelby's death certificate. "Hey, Foggy," she called out. Matt was already headed in her direction, having heard her. When Foggy emerged from his office, she said, "Guys, we have a problem. Tyler's mom, she worked for VanCorp." When she saw the puzzled expression on Matt's face, she remembered he didn't know what she and Foggy knew. She explained, "VanCorp is the corporation that bought the Presidential Hotel six months before Fisk conned the FBI into letting him out of prison. And Fisk was the hidden owner of VanCorp."

"So you're telling us Tyler's mother worked for Fisk?" Matt asked. He reached behind him, found a chair, and fell into it, stunned. "Damn."

"Looks like it," Karen confirmed.

"Son of a bitch," Foggy muttered. "What did she do?"

"I'm not sure," Karen replied, glancing down at the document. "It just says 'technician'."

"You know what this means, right?" Matt asked.

Foggy nodded grimly. "If she worked for Fisk, she must have known something that made her a threat to him."

Matt stood up and took a few steps to the end of the table that served as Karen's desk. "No, not to him – to Vanessa. And it got her killed. But I can't go after Vanessa, not without putting you both in danger."

"So, what," Karen asked, "you're going to break your promise to Tyler, just like that?"

He turned back to face her. "Damn it, Karen, you and Foggy have almost gotten killed because of me – more than once. I'm not gonna let that happen again. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Foggy spoke up. "Then we don't go after Vanessa."

"What the hell, Foggy," Karen demanded. "You mean we just stop, and let her get away with it? And what do we tell Tyler?"

"That's not what I'm saying. We keep investigating. But we don't go after Vanessa, we try to prove she didn't do it."

"And if she did?" Matt asked.

"We cross that bridge if we come to it," Foggy replied. "For now, though, we need to talk to Tyler again."

* * *

Matt was waiting for Tyler outside the classroom when school let out for the day. "Hey, Tyler," he said when he heard the tapping of the boy's cane,

"Matt!" Tyler exclaimed, walking toward him.

The nun standing in the classroom door spoke up, "It's 'Mr. Murdock,' Tyler."

"It's OK, Sister," Matt told her. Then he turned to Tyler. "Ready to go?" Tyler nodded and took hold of Matt's arm.

As they walked away, several boys' voices followed them – some of Tyler's classmates, Matt supposed.

"Hey, Magoo!" one voice shouted.

"No, look, it's two Magoos," another voice chimed in.

"Isn't that cute," a third boy added sarcastically, "the blind leading the blind."

"Not very original, are they?" Matt asked Tyler in a low voice. He felt Tyler shake his head. "Ignore them." The nun in the classroom doorway stood there, saying nothing, as they walked away.

When they reached the sidewalk outside the school, Matt turned to Tyler and asked, "Want to show me your cane technique?"

"Sure," Tyler said, "but how will you know? I mean, you can't see me."

"I'll know," Matt assured him. "There are other ways to see. And don't worry, I'll be right behind you."

Matt followed Tyler to the end of the block, where he stopped. Sensing Tyler's uncertainty, Matt coached him as they crossed the street, then resumed following him. They continued on their way for three blocks. When Matt caught up with Tyler for the third time, he asked, "Can I show you something?"

"Sure."

Matt reached out and gently took hold of Tyler's right wrist, intending to adjust how Tyler was holding his cane. Tyler gasped and winced. Matt immediately let go of Tyler's wrist and asked, "What's up with your wrist?"

"Nothin'. It's fine."

Matt knew Tyler's wrist wasn't "fine." If Tyler's gasp and wince weren't enough, the boy's heartbeat gave him away, and when Matt briefly touched his wrist, he noticed it was slightly swollen and warmer than the surrounding area. But this wasn't the time to call Tyler on it. They went another two blocks before a hint of sweetness in the air reminded Matt of the Ben & Jerry's ice cream shop in the middle of the next block. He told Tyler about it, then asked, "What's your favorite flavor?"

"Chunky Monkey," Tyler replied without hesitation.

"Follow me," Matt told him, wondering what in the world "Chunky Monkey" was.

Ice cream cones in hand – "Chunky Monkey" for Tyler, vanilla for Matt – Matt led Tyler to a pocket park next to one of the new buildings that had gone up in Hell's Kitchen in the aftermath of the "Incident." Hell's Kitchen was changing, he thought sadly. Wilson Fisk was in prison, but his vision for the neighborhood might very well come to pass without him. He led Tyler to a bench, where they sat in silence as Tyler devoured his ice cream cone. Sitting with the blind boy on the park bench, Matt felt as if he'd gone back in time to another park bench, on the day Stick came into his life. Even the vanilla ice cream cone was the same. But he wasn't. Stick's teachings had helped mold the man he was today, not always for the better. Matt still dealt with the fallout, every day. But he didn't like to think about what might have become of him if Stick hadn't found him. Tyler's voice interrupted his musings.

"We _never_ get ice cream at St. Agnes." Tyler declared, polishing off the last of the cone.

"Yeah, I remember," Matt agreed. It wasn't strictly true; they did get ice cream occasionally when he was growing up at the orphanage, but not nearly often enough. He finished his own ice cream cone before turning to Tyler and asking, "Are you gonna tell me how you hurt your wrist?"

"It's fine, honest," Tyler protested.

"No, it isn't," Matt said quietly. After a moment, he added, "You know, Tyler, it's a really bad idea to keep secrets from your friends."

"You're my friend?" Tyler asked, wonderingly.

"I hope so," Matt replied solemnly. "If someone's hurting you, you need to tell me."

"It's nothin', really," Tyler insisted, "just the other kids. They're always raggin' on me, about my books, and the other day, they . . . they grabbed my backpack and . . . and started throwin' my books all over the place. And I kinda . . . I kinda had to fight them to get them back. And my wrist got , , , twisted."

"You didn't tell anyone?" Matt asked.

"No. Sister Mary Alice was there the whole time."

"Jesus," Matt thought. "What the fuck is going on?" Then he remembered something else Tyler had said, something that didn't sound right. "Why were the other kids getting on your case about your books?" he asked.

"They've got really, really big letters, like little kids' books, you know," Tyler explained. "So they call me a dummy, stuff like that."

"Shit," Matt thought. "This is really fucked up." He frowned, then asked Tyler, "They're not teaching you braille?"

"No."

We'll see about that, Matt decided. Maggie had mentioned Tyler was having trouble keeping up in school, and now he knew why. To Tyler, he said, "That's gotta be hard."

"It is. The letters are big, but I can't really see them. It takes me forever to read anything. And my eyes hurt – all the time. I told Sister Mary Alice I couldn't see the words . . ." Tyler sniffed. "But she just said I had to try harder."

Matt listened to Tyler, shocked by what he was hearing. His jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists as he tried to suppress his anger. Was Sister Mary Alice cruelly indifferent or simply ignorant? Either way, someone needed to teach her a lesson. Maybe Daredevil should pay her an educational visit. Probably not a great idea, he decided reluctantly. He stood up. "We should go," he told Tyler. "Foggy and Karen will be wondering where we are."

Karen was the first to notice Matt and Tyler's arrival. Her heart melted when she saw them walking into the office together. Matt was . . . well, he was Matt. At first glance, Tyler reminded her of a boy in a Norman Rockwell painting. A little under five feet tall – he hadn't gotten his growth spurt yet – he had dark blond hair falling over his forehead and a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheekbones. He was still little-boy skinny, maybe a little too skinny. He took off his dark glasses, apparently not needing them indoors. Whatever had blinded him, it hadn't disfigured his eyes, which were a lovely shade of blue-green.

Watch out, Tyler, she thought, in a couple of years the girls will be falling all over themselves, chasing you. It wouldn't matter to them that he was blind – kind of like her with Matt. Don't go there, Page, she warned herself. When Matt came back to them after Midland Circle, she had to face the fact that she still cared for him, deeply, in spite of her anger at what he'd done. She even understood, a little, why he let her and Foggy believe he was dead. She was no stranger to despair and self-loathing. And so she had decided to forgive him, even if she hadn't quite gotten around to telling him that. But trust was another matter. He still had to regain her trust. She had trusted him with her secrets, but she wasn't sure she could trust him not to hurt her again. Not yet. She wouldn't act on her feelings until she was sure. But maybe it wasn't up to her. Matt seemed content to be her friend and co-worker. She hadn't seen any signs he was looking for anything more from her. Maybe it was for the best. Matt was alive and part of her life again. Be grateful for what you have, she told herself, and don't screw it up.

She took a deep breath, then stepped forward and said, "Hey, Tyler. I'm Karen." She didn't offer her hand, knowing Tyler couldn't see her.

Matt said, "Tyler Shelby, meet Karen Page, the best investigator in Hell's Kitchen."

Talking to the floor, Tyler replied, "Hi." After a moment, he raised his head. "So you're, like, a P.I.?"

"Yes."

"Cool." He seemed to look at her with interest. "Do you have a gun?"

Karen didn't like where this was going but decided honesty was the best policy. "Yes," she said guardedly.

"Can I see it?"

"Uh, not now. It's locked up."

"Oh." Tyler considered this for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever shot anyone?"

Shit. Honesty definitely was _not_ the best policy. She caught a glimpse of Matt with his face turned toward her, his eyebrows raised. "Um, no, not while I was working." She hoped Tyler wouldn't notice the caveat. She hadn't been working with a couple of lawyers all this time without learning a few tricks.

With impeccable timing, Foggy emerged from his office. "Hey, guys," he said. While Matt introduced him to Tyler, Karen noticed the boy's clothes for the first time. They looked like they'd been dug up from the bottom of the church's donation box: too-short blue jeans and a stretched out T-shirt that had been too big to begin with, its logo illegible after too many washings. She was suddenly angry, suspecting they'd given the worst clothes to the blind kid, thinking he wouldn't notice. Surely he had clothes of his own. Had no one thought to retrieve them from his home? She didn't think Matt would have picked up on this, even with his senses. She would have to mention it to him later.

While Matt, Foggy and Tyler were talking, Karen dragged two chairs out of her office and set them a few feet apart in the center of the room. She then went over to Tyler and asked, "Is it OK if we talk?" When he nodded "yes," she deftly led him to one of the chairs and put his hand on the top of its back. She had had plenty of practice being a sighted guide before she learned that Matt didn't need one. She sat down in the other chair and turned it to face Tyler.

"Can I get you something to drink," she asked, "a soda, maybe?"

Tyler shook his head. "My mom – " He teared up. "My mom doesn't let me have sodas." He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve.

Karen teared up, too. Like Tyler's grief for his mom, her grief for her own mother was never far from the surface. These days, all of her emotions felt like they were lurking just below the surface, waiting to break through. The events of recent months, both before and after Midland Circle, were still taking a toll, not only on her, but on Matt and Foggy, too. They were together again, but they were still recovering. All of them. What happened to Tyler was part of those events. He was one of the many innocent victims of Wilson Fisk. Her heart ached for him. How was she ever going to interview him, she wondered, if he teared up at the thought of his mom? She tried to set her emotions aside and instead said briskly, "Well, if your mom doesn't allow them, then we won't, either. How about some water?"

"OK."

"Matt?" Karen asked.

"You got it."

Matt retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and placed it in Tyler's hand. Tyler took a sip, then raised his head. "Will you stay, while we talk?"

"I'll be right here, buddy." Matt pulled up a chair and sat down a few feet away from Tyler and Karen.

"Is it OK if we talk about your mom a little?" she began.

Tyler sniffed. "OK."

"She had a job, right? I mean, besides being your mom?" Tyler nodded. "Do you know what kind of work she did?"

"Um, not really. I think it was something with computers, stuff like that. My dad – I mean, he was my dad, but not my real dad – he used to say she was a genius with computers. She was really, really smart."

"I bet she was. Did your mom ever say who she worked for?"

Tyler shook his head. "No." His brow furrowed. "But I heard her and my dad arguing once. They didn't know I heard. My mom was saying she was working for bad people. She didn't want to work for them anymore. But my dad said she couldn't quit, it was too dangerous. Then my mom started crying." Tyler sniffed again.

Damn, Karen thought, I don't like where this is going. She glanced quickly at Matt, guessing he must be thinking the same thing. "Did your mom ever quit that job?"

"No. She was working a lot. Sometimes she didn't even come home."

"Do you know why she was working so much?"

Tyler shook his head.

"Is it OK if we talk a little about the night of the accident?" Karen asked.

"Yeah, I guess. But it wasn't an accident," Tyler corrected her.

"I know," she replied. "Matt told me. Did you ever see the other car?"

"No, only the lights. They were really, really bright and kinda high up, off the ground."

"So – where were you going that night?"

"To our summer house. It was my dad's dad's house. We always went there in the summer, to go to the beach, you know."

"Why were you going there in February?"

Tyler shrugged. "I dunno. My dad, he said something . . . he said we had to get out of the city, something like that."

Karen frowned. This was not helping their plan to exonerate Vanessa. There was no point in putting Tyler through any more questioning. In a whisper only Matt could hear, she asked "Anything else?" Matt shook his head. She turned to Tyler and said, "That's all the questions I have. Thank you for talking to me." Tyler nodded solemnly. She stood up and went back to her office.

Matt dragged his chair next to Tyler, then turned it around and sat straddling it. He checked the time on his watch. "Looks like you missed dinner at the orphanage. We'll order in for dinner – your choice."

"Really?" Tyler said tentatively.

"Yep. Anything you want," Matt assured him.

"Can I have Mexican?"

"You got it." Matt pulled out his phone. "I'll let Sister Maggie know you're having dinner with us."

After Tyler put away three carne asada tacos and a couple of churros, he and Matt headed back to the orphanage. They were only a couple of blocks from the office when Matt noticed someone was following them. By his size, their tail was a man. A very agitated man, based on his stress sweat, ragged breathing and racing heartbeat. Matt stepped up his pace to catch up with Tyler, who was several steps ahead of him. Suddenly, the man's heart rate and adrenaline spiked, and he rushed past Matt and grabbed Tyler, too quickly for Matt to stop him. Tyler cried out in pain as the man dragged him into an alley, apparently by his injured wrist. Matt sprinted after them, dropping his cane as he ran. When he reached them, Tyler was struggling to escape from the man's grasp, but he was too strong. Matt chopped down with both fists on the man's forearm, forcing him to let go of Tyler.

"Go, go!" he yelled. He felt Tyler break away, followed by his footsteps and the frantic tapping of his cane.

Matt twisted the man's left arm behind his back. "What do you want with the boy?" he demanded.

"Go to hell," the man growled.

"Wrong answer. One more millimeter, and I break your arm. Is that what you want?" No response. _"What do you want with the boy?"_

"Fuck you."

Matt jerked up on the man's arm. He howled in pain and sank to his knees, cradling his injured arm. A series of swift punches made sure he stayed down.

Matt leaned forward with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "Tyler?" he called out. "You can come out now."

Tyler emerged from his hiding place behind a dumpster. "Whoa! Did you break that guy's arm?"

"Let's go," Matt said gruffly, still coming down from his adrenaline high. He led them out of the alley, retrieving his cane along the way.

Just before they reached the sidewalk, Tyler said excitedly, "That was sick!"

Matt stopped and turned toward Tyler. "No," he corrected him. "It was . . . necessary."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Matt focused on slowing his heart rate and breathing as the adrenaline high dissipated. He could sense Tyler's excitement, too. He knew what he had to do.

In the entry hall at the orphanage, Matt turned to Tyler and bent down to be closer to his level. "What happened back there," he began, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Violence doesn't solve problems. Most of the time it makes things worse. Do you understand?"

"I guess," Tyler said doubtfully.

Matt heard his doubt. "It's really not OK to beat on people, but sometimes it's necessary, like I said. What I did, it was the only way to be sure you were safe. OK?"

Tyler nodded. "OK."

"One other thing." Matt hoped he wasn't putting too much on Tyler. "I know you're gonna want to tell the other kids about what happened, but it's important that you don't. I don't want people knowing I can fight."

"Why not? It's cool, that you can fight."

Matt sighed. "Not really. And if people know I can fight, I lose the advantage. I can't take them by surprise. Know what I mean?"

"I understand. I won't tell," Tyler said, and crossed his heart.

"If you need to talk about what happened, you can talk to Sister Maggie. She knows . . . about me."

"No way," Tyler declared. "I'm not talking to her. She's scary."

Matt chuckled. "She is that."

After dropping Tyler off at his dormitory room, Matt went in search of Maggie. He found her folding towels in the laundry room in the crypt at the church.

"Thank God you were there," Maggie said, after Matt told her what happened to him and Tyler on their way back to the orphanage.

"I'm pretty sure He wasn't involved," Matt replied dryly.

"Do you think it had something to do with the car crash?" Maggie asked as she placed a stack of clean, folded towels on a shelf.

"I don't know. But Tyler was definitely the target, so it must be related. I don't know how, though." He shrugged.

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Until I do, you need to keep an eye on Tyler. They – whoever 'they' are – probably will try again."

"We will," Maggie assured him.

Matt scanned the space, noticing three beds that weren't there before. He sat down on one of them. "You've had other . . . guests, since I stayed here?"

Maggie turned in his direction and nodded. "Yes, a refugee family. They had nowhere to go while waiting for their case to be heard." She finished folding the towels and crossed the room to sit down next to him.

"They're gone?"

"Yes," Maggie replied sadly. "Their asylum claim was denied. They were sent back to Guatemala three weeks ago. No one has heard from them since then."

"I'm sorry." As inadequate as that felt, Matt didn't know what else to say.

"We live in hope." Maggie crossed herself, then changed the subject. "Was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes. We need to talk about Tyler. Did you know they're not teaching him braille?"

Maggie seemed taken aback by the question. "Um . . . yes, I did. His teacher said he didn't need it, with the technology available today."

"Bullshit," Matt snapped. He stood up and began pacing back and forth. "How do you think I got through college and law school? His teacher – would that be Sister Mary Alice?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what she told him when he said he couldn't see the words in his books?" Not waiting for an answer, Matt turned toward her and continued, raising his voice, "She told him to try harder. Like trying harder is gonna do any good when he can't fucking see the words on the page. Jesus, what part of 'blind' does she not understand?"

"Matthew, I had no idea – " Maggie began.

"Well, now you do."

"And I will talk to them, at the school. I'm not in charge of the school, you know, but I think they'll listen to me."

"They'd better," Matt said, waving a finger in her face, "because if they don't, Foggy and I will be happy to sue their Irish Catholic asses."

Maggie sighed. "My son, the lawyer."

"Yeah. And don't you forget it." He sat down on the bed again. "There's something else . . . ."

"Yes," Maggie replied cautiously.

"You need to take a look at Tyler's right wrist. I think it's sprained."

"Sprained? How?"

"He was scuffling with some other kids, trying to get his books back after they stole them." Matt explained. "I'm guessing they were the same kids who were calling us names when I picked him up at school this afternoon."

"Where was his teacher?"

"You mean Sister Mary Alice? Standing there watching, the whole time. You need to face facts, Maggie, your Sister Mary Alice doesn't give a rat's ass about Tyler. Or she's being bullied herself."

"What can I do?" Maggie asked.

"For starters, Tyler needs self-defense training."

"You want him to fight, like you? Maybe turn him into 'Daredevil, Junior'?"

Matt chuckled. "No, that's not the plan. But he's a blind kid growing up in Hell's Kitchen. He needs to be able to defend himself. After tonight, do you really need more proof?"

"I guess not," Maggie admitted. "But how?"

"I know a woman in Chinatown who used to run a _dojo_. Her name's Colleen Wing. She was with us at – " He waved his hand, " – well, you know where."

"Midland Circle," Maggie murmured.

"Yeah. I don't know her real well, but I think she'd agree to help Tyler if I asked."

"Are you sure about this?" Maggie asked. "I don't want Tyler thinking violence is the way to solve his problems."

"I already gave him that speech."

"Do as I say, not as I do?"

Matt gave a pained half-smile. "Something like that." He could always count on Maggie to cut through his bullshit.

"I just don't want him getting in trouble for fighting, like you did. Remember?"

"I remember," Matt replied wryly. "But I also remember that the other kids stopped hassling me when they found out a blind kid could kick their asses."

Maggie threw up her hands in defeat. "OK," she said. "We'll try it your way."

* * *

Foggy and Karen were discussing the finer points of coffee-making when Matt arrived at the office the next morning. After Matt dropped his cane and briefcase in his office and got himself a cup of coffee, they sat around the large table that served as their conference table. Foggy and Karen were predictably horrified when Matt told them about the attempt to kidnap Tyler.

Karen's shock quickly turned to anger. "Goddamnit!" she swore. "When I get my hands on that bitch – "

Matt interrupted her. "I'm not so sure it was Vanessa."

"How can you even say that?" Karen demanded. "They were after Tyler. Of course it was her."

"I've had some time to think about it," Matt told her calmly, waving his hand, "and some things don't add up."

"What things?" Foggy asked.

"The attack . . . I don't know, it seemed kind of amateurish. There was only one guy, and he didn't seem to have a plan. He tried to grab Tyler off the street, then dragged him into an alley. And he wasn't really a fighter. That doesn't sound like Fisk to me – or Vanessa."

Foggy took a sip of coffee, then leaned back, thinking. "You're right. It doesn't sound like them."

"There's something else," Matt pointed out. "Why would Fisk, or Vanessa, target Tyler? He wasn't a threat to them. He didn't know anything about his mom's work."

"Yeah, but maybe they didn't know that," Foggy replied.

"It doesn't matter," Karen said. "Taking Tyler would give them leverage, to make us stop investigating."

"Maybe," Matt said doubtfully, "but, like I said, things don't add up."

"So now what?" Foggy asked.

Matt thought for a moment. "I have an idea."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

As a Correctional Officer escorted Matt to an attorney interview room at Riker's, the sounds and smells of the jail assaulted his senses. With an effort, he pushed the sensory assault into the background, as much as he could, and focused on the man he was there to see: Felix Manning. Manning's attorney had been reluctant at first to allow the interview, but Matt eventually convinced him he was not interested in grilling Manning about the many charges he was facing.

When Matt walked into the room, Manning tried to stand up, but the chain securing his handcuffed hands to the table only let him rise halfway. "You!" he growled.

"Nice to see you, too, Felix," Matt replied smoothly. He turned to the CO. "Thanks, officer, we got this."

"If you're sure . . . ," the CO said doubtfully.

"We're good," Matt assured him. The CO left the room slowly. After the door closed, Matt made sure he wasn't listening in, then folded his cane and sat across the table from Manning. "How's the hip, Felix?" he asked with a smirk.

"Not good, thanks to you. It needs to be replaced, but there's no chance of that happening while I'm stuck in here. What do you want, Murdock?"

"Just some conversation," Matt said. "And some information."

Manning scoffed. "Or I could call in that bull out there and tell him who you are."

"You could do that, I suppose . . . ," Matt replied.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

"Actually, there are two." Matt held up one finger. "First. To that bull out there, you're just another con. You lost your credibility as soon as you put on the jumpsuit." He held up a second finger. "Second. You're Fisk's agent. If you out me, that releases me from my agreement with Fisk, and I go after his Vanessa. Do you really want to be the cause of that?"

Manning sighed resignedly. "What do you want to know?"

"Fisk had an employee, now deceased, a Mrs. Shelby. What do you know about her?"

" _That's_ what this is about?"

"Just answer the question."

"She was nobody. Just a technician who ran his video surveillance operation after the feds moved him to the hotel."

Matt remembered the woman he had encountered on his visits to Fisk's penthouse. He also remembered the desperation in her voice. "If that's the case, why have her killed?"

"I heard it was an accident."

"It was no accident. Someone ran them off the road."

"I don't know anything about that. I was still in the hospital when it happened. The only people I was talking to were my doctors and my lawyers."

"So who would want her killed?"

Manning shrugged. "I have no idea." His heart rate shot up.

Matt stood up and leaned across the table in Manning's direction. "You're lying. Don't try to deny it."

"You can't possibly know. . . ," Manning began.

"I know. Believe it."

Manning leaned back as far as his restraints would allow and studied the table top. Eventually, he looked up and said, "All right. There is one thing. She was present when Vanessa ordered the killing of Ray Nadeem."

"Son of a bitch," Matt muttered.

"As you know, I was there, too."

"How are you still alive?"

"Fisk's organization was decimated. It will take time for Vanessa to rebuild it. But she will. I don't like my chances when she does."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Matt told him sardonically. He stood up and unfolded his cane. "And for the record, Mrs. Shelby wasn't a nobody – not to her son." He walked to the door and knocked to let the waiting CO know the interview was over.

* * *

"Damn," Foggy swore, when Matt told him and Karen about his meeting with Manning. "Talk about making things worse."

"Not really," Matt objected, "all he did was confirm what we already suspected."

"No, Matt, it made things ten times worse," Foggy declared as he started pacing back and forth. "Now we _know_ Vanessa had a motive, a damn strong one, to go after Tyler's mom. We are so screwed."

Karen spoke up. "She ordered three murders – Ray Nadeem and Tyler's parents. And Tyler was almost killed, too. It's her fault he's blind. He's a child, for chrissake. We can't let this go. _I_ can't let this go."

"You're right, we can't," Matt said quietly. "But I don't know how to do it, without putting you in danger." He retreated to his office and sat down at his desk. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He couldn't see a way out of his dilemma: go after Vanessa and put Karen and Foggy in danger, or allow her to get away with blinding Tyler and killing his parents. Neither option was acceptable. And Karen had made it clear she wasn't going to let Vanessa get away with it, no matter what he did.

Oh, Karen . . . . His mind wandered back to their only real date, when they ended up at her favorite Indian restaurant. It was the last good thing that happened, before his life spiraled out of control, and it all went to hell. It was magical, she'd said. More like a fairy tale, he thought sadly. He was with his idea of Karen, and she was with her idea of Matt. Neither was real. Now that their secrets and lies were out in the open, maybe there was a chance for them to have something real. He could only hope she wanted that, too, someday. His phone rang, startling him. He answered it. "Matthew Murdock." He listened for a moment, then said, "All right. I'll be there."

Foggy stuck his head into the space. "Who was that?"

"Ben Donovan."

"Ben Donovan as in Fisk's lawyer? That Ben Donovan?" Matt nodded. "What did he want?"

"He wants me to meet someone at his office tomorrow afternoon," Matt replied.

"And you're going?"

"I am," Matt confirmed. "I doubt he's planning to have me killed in his own office." He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

* * *

In the express elevator on the way to the offices of Donovan & Partners, Matt pondered the odd summons he'd received from Big Ben the day before. Now that he thought of it, it wasn't a summons exactly – more like a request. Which wasn't like Donovan at all. "If you can be at my office at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon," Donovan had said, "there is someone who would very much like to speak with you." Matt didn't bother asking who the person was; he was sure Donovan wouldn't tell him. "I can assure you," Donovan had continued, "you will be very interested in what this person has to say."

When Matt stepped off the elevator, Donovan himself was there to meet him. Matt took Donovan's arm and allowed him to lead him through the maze of cubicles and hallways to Donovan's corner office. Matt was pretty sure Donovan knew about him, but it was best if his employees didn't. After the door to Donovan's office closed behind them and Matt determined no one else was present, he let go of Donovan's arm and started to fold his cane. No need for his cover story anymore. "Please, have a seat," Donovan said, gesturing to the client chairs across the desk from him. So he was right; Donovan knew. Matt made his way to the chair closest to him and sat down. As soon as he was seated, a door opened in the wall to his left, and a person entered the room.

Matt got to his feet. "Mrs. Fisk," he said.

Accompanied by the subtle scent of an expensive perfume, Vanessa glided across the room to meet him. "Mr. Murdock," she said, holding out her hand. Matt located her hand and shook it without hesitating or fumbling. "Remarkable," she observed.

"It's been a long time since the art gallery," Matt said, choosing not to remind her of their more recent encounter at Fisk's penthouse.

"Yes, it has," she agreed. "Did you ever invest in any art?"

"No," Matt replied.

"But you weren't really interested in art, were you?"

"No," Matt admitted. Turning to Donovan, he asked, "Why am I here, Ben?"

Donovan chuckled and shook his head. "Ask Mrs. Fisk. It's her meeting."

Matt turned to Vanessa and raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

Vanessa walked past him and sat in the other client chair. "You know, Wilson made a mistake when he made an enemy of you. Your . . . talents could have been very useful to us."

Matt shook his head. "Not going to happen." He sat down, turning his chair to face her.

"I know. And unfortunately, Wilson is so consumed by his hatred of you, he will never be able to see your true value. I, however, am not ruled by my emotions. While I must accept that we will remain adversaries, there may be times when our interests coincide. This is one of them."

"Is that even possible?" Matt asked incredulously.

"Yes, it is. I asked Ben to arrange this meeting, because I need to warn you – "

"Are you threatening me? Or Karen or Foggy?" Matt demanded.

"No, not at all," Vanessa assured him. "My purpose is to neutralize a threat, not only to you and your friends, but also to myself."

"I'm listening," Matt muttered.

"You may be unaware of it, but you are close, perilously close, to violating your agreement with my husband. And quite unnecessarily."

"How so?"

"You are, I believe, investigating a road accident in which the parents of Tyler Shelby were killed, and young Tyler was grievously injured."

"How – ?" Matt began, then stopped himself. Of course Fisk's people were keeping tabs on him. "Never mind," he said, waving his hand.

Vanessa continued, "If you pursue this investigation, you will almost certainly discover that Tyler's mother, Mrs. Shelby, was employed by VanCorp – "

Matt completed the sentence. " – the corporation that bought the Presidential Hotel. Yes, I already know that."

"Correct. And you yourself – or, more accurately, your alter ego – met her at least once."

"The video set-up."

Vanessa nodded. "Correct again. She was the technician in charge of it."

"She wanted to help me get to Fisk," Matt said, remembering.

"Not surprising. She was not a willing participant in our enterprise. Wilson had secured her cooperation by threats to her son and her husband, who had been brought unwittingly into our money-laundering operation."

Matt stood up and took a step toward Vanessa. "Damn you. You did it. You killed them, and blinded Tyler. Do you have any idea what that boy is going through? Do you even care? " He pointed a finger at her. "You'll pay for this, I swear."

"Matthew, Matthew, please," Vanessa said serenely. "You're missing the point. Whatever happened to the Shelby family, it wasn't us. Of course we would have had to deal with Mrs. Shelby and her husband eventually, but you can't seriously believe we would have done it in such a sloppy way. And I never would have approved of a method that endangered a child."

Matt focused on her heartbeat. Steady. Was it possible she was telling the truth? "Yeah, right," he muttered. "Vanessa Fisk, 'Humanitarian of the Year'."

"That's the reason for this meeting," she continued, ignoring his comment. "When you discovered who Tyler's mother worked for, your suspicions would naturally focus on me. That would be . . . undesirable, for both of us. For me, because I don't want you coming after me, especially for something I didn't do. And for you, because the consequences of breaking your agreement with my husband would be . . . unpleasant."

Still no change in her heartbeat. Matt sat down. "Let's say I believe you. But that 'accident' was no accident. Who was responsible, if not you?"

Donovan answered him. "We don't know. But my people have assembled a dossier on the Shelby family, which may prove useful. It's the best we could do on short notice."

He handed a file folder to Matt, who ran his hands over it. "Not in braille?" he asked with a half-smile.

"There wasn't time. Mrs. Fisk insisted time was of the essence."

"I'll manage." Matt stood and turned toward Vanessa. "Thank you," he said, holding out his hand.

Vanessa took it. "Do you believe I wasn't involved?"

Matt considered his answer. He didn't trust Vanessa, not even a little. She had taken over Fisk's operation when he went back to prison, and by all accounts, she was as ruthless as her husband. But Matt trusted his abilities. She couldn't hide a lie from him. "I do," he told her.

"Good. Then I wish you good luck in finding the culprit."

"As you said, I have certain . . . talents." Matt let go of her hand and walked out of the office.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

"You're sure it's not a ploy, something to throw us off track?" Foggy asked, after Matt told him about his meeting with Ben Donovan and Vanessa Fisk.

"I didn't want to believe her, either," Matt replied, "but Vanessa wasn't lying. And there's something else, something she said."

"What's that?"

Matt stood up and leaned against the edge of his desk. "She admitted they wanted Mrs. Shelby dead and would have killed her eventually, but she claimed they wouldn't have done it by running their car off the road. That made sense to me."

"How so?" Karen asked as she walked into Matt's office.

"She would want to be sure the threat was eliminated. A car crash has too many variables. Mrs. Shelby might have survived," Matt explained.

"Or maybe you believe her because you don't want to have to go after her," Foggy theorized.

"You know, that's a really shitty thing to say, Fog," Matt snapped. "Do you _want_ me to put you in danger, you and Karen?"

Foggy shook his head. "No. Of course not. But if you're right, we got nothing."

"Maybe there's something here." Karen picked up the file Donovan had given Matt. "You said this was background on the family?" Matt nodded. "First rule of investigation," Karen observed, "look at the nearest and dearest. If it wasn't Vanessa, maybe it was a family member."

"But who?" Foggy asked. "Tyler was an only child, and his parents were both killed."

"Give me a minute," Karen said. She opened the file and skimmed the first few pages. "Both parents were only children, so no aunts or uncles or cousins. And all of the grandparents are deceased, except his maternal grandmother, who's in assisted living."

"Damn," Foggy muttered.

"Wait a minute," Matt said. "Tyler said Thomas Shelby wasn't his 'real' dad."

Karen sat down in Matt's chair and looked at a few more pages in the file. "Shelby married his mother when he was five and adopted him a couple of years later. They changed his last name to Shelby when he was adopted."

"What was his name before?" Foggy asked.

Karen consulted the file again. "Young, his mother's maiden name." She continued reading. "There's nothing here about his biological father. Did Tyler tell you anything about him, Matt?"

"No, he never mentioned him. I don't know, maybe he never knew his father," Matt speculated, "or he doesn't remember him."

"Let's ask him," Foggy suggested.

"No," Matt said sharply. He went on to explain, "We don't know what the story is, but if Tyler doesn't talk about him, it's probably not good. Tyler is dealing with a lot of . . . stuff right now. I don't want to open up something that could make things harder for him."

When his words were met with silence, Matt guessed some non-verbal communication was taking place between Foggy and Karen – again. Foggy finally broke the silence. "Well, we still need to find out. How do we do it?' he asked.

"We get Tyler's birth certificate," Karen replied.

Matt spoke up. "I know where we can find it. There should be a copy in his file at the orphanage."

"But Maggie will never let us look at his file," Foggy protested. "You know the privacy laws as well as I do."

"Who said anything about asking?" Matt tilted his head back, seeming to stare into the distance. "Here's what we'll do. Maggie stitched me up last week – " He gestured toward his left shoulder. " – after I . . . never mind." He waved his hand. "It's time for her to check the stitches. While I'm in the infirmary with her, Karen, you can slip into her office and get the file."

"What if the office is locked?" Foggy asked.

"She never locks it – not when I've been there, anyway," Matt replied. "And if it is, well, I've taught Karen a few tricks," he added with a smug smile.

"You two!" Foggy said in mock indignation. "You're incorrigible."

* * *

Karen strolled into the orphanage, hoping she looked like she belonged there. She wasn't especially concerned her presence would be challenged. She had been there several times, and the sisters knew she and Sister Maggie were acquainted. At this hour, the place was almost deserted, anyway. Most of the children, and the nuns who taught them, were at the parish school on the other side of the church. The younger ones, along with the nuns who cared for them, were in the preschool and nursery on the far side of the building.

When Karen reached Maggie's office, she opened the unlocked door and slipped in, undetected. It took her only a few seconds to locate the file cabinet with a drawer labeled "Active – S-Z"; it, too, was unlocked. She really should give Maggie some tips on security – later. Tyler's file was right where it should be. She pulled it out of the drawer and flipped through it until she found Tyler's birth certificate. Satisfied she had what she had come for, she stuffed the folder into her oversize handbag. As she looked around the office, preparing to leave, her gaze fell on a cabinet holding "Inactive" files. Acting on impulse, she went over to it and opened the drawer labeled "Inactive – H-M". A file labeled "Murdock, Matthew" was at the back of the drawer. Not sure exactly why she was doing it, she removed the file from the drawer and put it in her handbag. No one spotted her on her way out of the building.

Back at the office, Karen took both files out of her handbag and placed them on the desk in front of her. Matt wasn't back yet. Good. She stared at Matt's file for a long time before she opened it. She had read only the first two pages – routine intake data – when Matt returned. She quickly closed the file and put Tyler's file on top of it.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the partition that separated their offices. "You got the file?"

"Yes."

"Anything interesting?"

"Not yet."

"OK," he said, as he turned to go into his office.

Karen let out her breath and picked up Matt's file again. Several more pages in, there was an entry titled "Legal Release for Adoption." Next to it, the "No" box was checked, and below it was a notation: "Parental Rights." "Oh, shit," she whispered involuntarily, unable to stop herself. There was only one person who could have had parental rights. She felt sick to her stomach. When she heard Matt push back his chair, she hurriedly closed the folder, putting it back under Tyler's file. When she looked up, Matt was standing in the entrance to her office.

"You found something?" he asked.

"Uh . . . um," she stammered.

"I heard you," he said.

Of course he did. And it wasn't as if she could lie to him. Damn. You are _so_ busted, she told herself. She took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing heart. "I am such an idiot," she began.

"Spare me the self-recrimination," Matt said coldly. "What did you find?"

"After, uh, after I took Tyler's file, I saw another file cabinet, with 'inactive' files. I looked in it, and . . . and your file was there. So I took it." The words started spilling out of her. "I don't know why I did it, it was stupid . . oh, God."

"Tell me what you found," Matt said, sounding more like Daredevil than Matt Murdock.

Haltingly, Karen described the "Legal Release for Adoption" entry she'd found. Matt's expression, already grim, became even grimmer as he listened. When she finished, he said nothing. He simply walked toward her and held out his hand. She gave him the file. He grabbed his jacket and cane and left. "Matt! Wait!" she cried out as the door closed behind him.

* * *

Matt strode into Sister Maggie's office and threw the file folder onto her desk. "Parental rights?" he demanded. _"Parental rights?"_

"Matthew, I – "

"Let me see if I have this straight," Matt said, talking over her. "You never told me you were my mother, you never claimed me as your son, but you never gave up your parental rights." He leaned on the desk and pointed at her. "You – _you_ – weren't entitled to parental rights."

Maggie shrank back in her chair. "You're right, Matthew," she said. "I wasn't."

"So I had to watch while other kids were adopted. I never was. I never had a chance to not be alone in the world. I thought it was me. But it was you all along. _You_ made sure I could never be adopted. But you didn't want me – not really. Please, explain this to me."

"Please understand, you were never alone," Maggie began pleadingly.

" _No!"_ Matt roared, slamming his fist on the desktop. "You don't get to say that. _I_ was alone. _You_ never were."

Maggie recoiled in the face of his anger. "I wasn't alone, that's true, but I was afraid," she said. "I was a danger to you when I left you and your father, when you were little. I was afraid that if I tried to raise you on my own, as a single mom, that it would happen again. I didn't think I could do it, not by myself. You were . . . challenging . . . ."

" _No,"_ Matt said fiercely, "you can't put this on me. This was you, all you."

"I'm not putting it on you. I wanted to keep you close, but I was afraid I couldn't be the mother you needed. You don't realize how exceptional you are, Matthew. In my heart, I felt I didn't deserve to be your mother."

"You're right. You don't." Matt spun and marched out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Maggie buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

* * *

Matt was clenching his fists and muttering curses under his breath as he walked into the office. Karen put down the file she was reading and stood up.

"Matt?" she asked.

He folded his cane and threw it onto the chair behind him, then turned away from her and walked into his office. Karen followed him. "No, you don't, Matt. Talk to me."

He stopped and turned to face her. "What do you want me to say?" he asked bitterly. "You read the file. You know what she did."

"I don't care about her," Karen replied. "I care . . . about you." This is my fault, she thought. Once again, something she did had turned out all wrong. "And I am so, so sorry. I never should have taken that file. I don't know what I was thinking." She shook her head. "I wasn't thinking."

"No," Matt said flatly. "You have nothing to apologize for. I never would have known what she did, who she really is. And I needed to know." He sat on the table that served as his desk, gripping its edge with both hands.

Karen sat next to him. "You once told me my mistakes don't define me. Her mistakes don't need to define you."

"But they did. They shaped me, when I was just a kid, without me knowing it. You know it's true. Just think of all the times I've hurt you and Foggy, pushed you away, when you deserved better. It's who I am." His voice broke. "Why do you even stick around?" He hung his head and turned away from her. She blinked back tears when she heard the misery in his voice and saw it on his face. She reached out carefully and covered his hand with hers. She wasn't sure what she could say, or if anything she said would help. Then she remembered something Maggie had told her.

"You know, Matt, when I first met Maggie, she told me something."

Matt lifted his head. "Oh, yeah?"

"She told me that when a person in need tries to push you away, that's when you have to hold on tighter."

"Great. 'The Wit and Wisdom of Sister Maggie'," Matt said derisively.

"Deflect all you want," Karen retorted. "It's still true." She stood up and pulled him to his feet. "C'mere, you." She held out her arms to him, then pulled him into a hug. Matt tried to hold back, but eventually gave in and embraced her. He took a deep, shuddering breath before resting his head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, then rested her head on his shoulder. After a while – she didn't know how long – Matt raised his head.

"Someone's coming," he said. "Foggy."

A moment later the door opened. "Karen? Matt?" Foggy called out.

"In here," Karen replied.

Foggy walked toward them, then stopped short when he looked around the partition. "Uh, guys," he said, "am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Karen assured him.

"But what are you doing?"

"Holding on," Matt said.

Karen beckoned to Foggy and held out her arm to him. "C'mon. I'll explain later."

Looking thoroughly perplexed, Foggy joined them.

* * *

Two hours later, Foggy and Matt were sitting at the bar in Josie's, Foggy with a beer, Matt with a glass of whatever bargain Scotch Josie was serving that week. After their group hug, Matt went for a long walk – to clear his head, he said. Then he decided he needed a drink.

Matt took a long drink of his Scotch. "Karen told you?" he asked.

"Yeah. That sucks, big time." Having grown up in a loving (if somewhat over-the-top) family, Foggy had a hard time wrapping his mind around all the shit that had been dumped on his best friend. Now Matt had even more shit to deal with.

"You got that right." Matt frowned. He sniffed his drink, as if he was surprised it was Josie's Scotch instead of Macallan. "You know, I could understand, kind of, why she left my dad and me. But this . . . ." He shrugged. "Maybe I never would have been adopted anyway. I was kind of the poster child for 'hard to place.' Too old. Too angry. Too . . . blind. But I never had a chance. She took that chance away from me. And for what? So she could be around while I grew up, without having to really be my mother?"

"That's what it looks like," Foggy agreed. His heart ached for Matt. He was always telling Karen and Foggy they deserved better, but so did he. Sure, Matt could be an asshole, and Foggy sometimes thought that chemical spill had given Matt a superpower for bringing disasters down on himself, not to mention his friends. And he didn't hesitate to call out Matt on his bullshit when necessary. But how much crap was one human being supposed to take? He knew Matt didn't want people feeling sorry for him, but damn . . . . Blindness wasn't even the worst of it. He shook his head sadly, thankful for once that Matt couldn't see the expression on his face.

"I never had a mother anyway," Matt said hoarsely, "and I don't want one now. Maggie and I are done – for good, this time."

"What about Tyler?" Foggy asked.

"I'll still help him, if she'll let me. He shouldn't have to pay for what she did."

"Neither should you, buddy." But Matt _was_ paying for it. Foggy gave his friend a pat on the back and finished his beer.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Tyler's birth certificate gave them the name of his biological father: Travis Wright. Armed with that information, Karen quickly learned he was an abuser who had beaten Tyler's mother badly when Tyler was a toddler. He was convicted of first degree assault and sentenced to prison. While he was in prison, she divorced him, and his parental rights were terminated. After serving nine years in Dannemora, he was released on parole two months before the Shelby family's fatal crash. Karen was still trying to track down Wright's current address. His parole officer was a stickler for the rules and was not inclined to be helpful, even after she told him Tyler's story.

A couple of hours after Karen reported what she had dug up on Wright, Matt was waiting outside Tyler's classroom to take him to Chinatown for his first self-defense lesson. When the bell rang, Tyler rushed past him in a group of children. "Hey, Tyler!" Matt called out, but Tyler ignored him.

Sister Mary Alice came up behind him. "He doesn't want to see you," she said coldly, not bothering to hide the triumph in her voice. "He said you're not his friend and to tell you to go away."

What the fuck? Matt knew Sister Mary Alice was no friend of his, not after he insisted that Tyler had to learn braille. Had she turned Tyler against him? He walked away without responding to her. He wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. He followed the children out of the school. It was easy to pick out Tyler's voice from among the chattering children around him.

"My real father came back," he was saying excitedly. "And he's gonna take me out of here, and get my eyes fixed, and everything."

"Cool," another boy said. "When are you leaving?"

"I dunno. Soon."

A second boy spoke up. "Where's he been all this time?"

"It's a secret," Tyler boasted. "He was working for the government, in some foreign country. That's all he's allowed to say."

"Awesome," the second boy said. The two boys drifted away, leaving Tyler alone.

Matt had heard enough. Damn. Wright must have found Tyler and made contact somehow. The ex-con's record showed he was an expert in manipulating and controlling people. It would have been easy for him to gain Tyler's confidence – and turn him against Matt at the same time. He didn't know if Wright was really planning to take Tyler, or just blowing smoke. But he couldn't take chances with Tyler's safety. He called Colleen to postpone Tyler's lesson, explaining the boy was "under the weather." Then he set his jaw and headed to the orphanage to find Sister Maggie.

Maggie was in her office when Matt strode in without knocking. She stood up behind her desk and said, "Matthew, this is a surprise – "

He cut her off. "This isn't a social call, Sister," he snapped. "It's about Tyler." He related what Karen had found out about Wright and the conversation he'd just overheard, then added, his voice dripping venom, "Apparently, he's asserting his _parental rights._ "

Maggie recoiled as if she'd been slapped and fell back into her chair. "Dear God," she breathed. "We can't let him take Tyler."

"I doubt God is going to stop him. We have to."

"What can we do?" Maggie asked anxiously.

"You won't see me, but I'll be here as much as I can. You need to make sure someone is watching Tyler. You have to know where he is at all times and who he's with. And keep an eye out for anyone who doesn't belong here."

"Shouldn't we notify the police?"

Matt shook his head. "You can, but the cops won't be able to do much unless Wright makes a move." He thought for a minute, then said, "Karen may be able to find a photo of him. If she does, I'll have her send it to you. But keep in mind that he may have altered his appearance. And there's one more thing: apparently he's told Tyler he's going to get his eyes fixed. Is that even possible?"

"No," Maggie whispered, appalled. Then she found her voice again and said, "We took him to one of the leading specialists in the city. He said there was nothing that could be done. In fact, Tyler probably will end up losing what little vision he still has."

" _Damn it!"_ Matt exploded in rage at Wright's wanton cruelty. "When I get my hands on that asshole – " He left the thought unfinished, breathing heavily. He spun on his heel and started to leave, then turned and said over his shoulder, "You see anything suspicious, anything at all, call me. Got it?"

"I will," Maggie assured him.

Matt went to his apartment to change into a black shirt and jeans. Over them he wore the hooded jacket and baseball cap he thought of as his camouflage. His mask, cane, and dark glasses were in his pockets. Just another pedestrian, he made his way along the crowded sidewalks. Soon he was perched on the roof of the orphanage with his head down and turned to one side, his senses focused on the activities of the children and nuns in the building below him. Hours passed. The children's dinner over, the orphanage settled into the nightly routine of baths, homework, and bedtime prayers. Finally, even the oldest children were in bed, asleep. Matt heard two sisters talking softly just outside Tyler's room, apparently stationed there by Maggie. He doubted Wright would risk a nighttime break-in to grab Tyler, but he stayed for another hour anyway, before calling it a night.

* * *

The next morning, Travis Wright strode confidently into the school. His cleaning company uniform, with "Bill" embroidered over the shirt pocket, was the perfect cover. No one questioned his presence. Hell, they barely even noticed him. Now he had to find an opportunity to speak to Tyler unnoticed. His chance came at mid-morning, when Tyler's class piled out of their classroom for recess. Tyler lagged behind as usual, and the nun who taught the class wasn't paying attention.

"Tyler," he whispered. Tyler turned around and took a few steps toward him. Wright reached out and grabbed Tyler's arm, pulling him back into the empty classroom.

"You ready?" Wright asked.

"You bet!" Tyler replied excitedly.

"OK, here's the plan. When school lets out this afternoon, you leave as usual. But don't go back to the orphanage. Keep going, to Clinton Park. You know how to get there, right?" Tyler nodded eagerly. "I'll be right behind you, in case you get lost."

"I won't get lost," Tyler declared.

"Good. I'll meet you there and take you to a safe place."

Wright smiled to himself as he went back to mopping the hallway floor. In a few hours, he'd be out of here, with his son. _His_ son. His bitch of a mother tried to screw him over with the law, take Tyler away from him, but Tyler was his own flesh and blood. Nothing could change that. He had his rights. The bitch deserved everything she got. Her and that wuss, Shelby. They wouldn't let Tyler visit him while he was inside. Well, he made sure they wouldn't be visiting Tyler, ever again. His only regret was what happened to Tyler. He never meant for him to be hurt. It pained him to see Tyler now, blind, tapping along with his cane. But he'd fix that, once he and Tyler were away from here. Surely there was something that could be done. Then he and Tyler, they'd be a real team.

The hours until the end of the school day dragged, just as they did when he was a kid. Finally, the classroom doors opened. Wright stationed himself down the hallway from Tyler's classroom. A group of kids rushed by, followed by Tyler. Wright waited for another group of kids to pass, then fell in behind them. As he went out the front door of the school, he spotted Tyler, half a block ahead of him. Good boy. As much as it hurt to think of his son's blindness, he was proud of how confidently Tyler made his way along the city sidewalk. The rest of the plan went off without a hitch. He caught up with Tyler in the park, and they went from there to the nearby apartment he'd rented under the name of "Bill Simonson."

When school let out for the day, Matt was crouched at one corner of the school building's roof. He tilted his head to track the tapping of Tyler's cane as he made his way out of the building. Matt relaxed a bit, thinking he was heading toward the orphanage. That changed a few seconds later, when Tyler walked past the entrance to the orphanage and kept going along the sidewalk. Matt put on his baseball cap and shrugged into his hooded jacket, then scrambled off the roof, landing in a narrow walkway between the school and the church. Once on the ground, he pulled off his mask and stuck it in his pocket. He paused for a minute to listen for Tyler's cane. He could still hear the tapping, but more faintly. He was heading west, toward the river. Matt followed him as quickly as he dared.

After a couple of blocks, Matt realized Tyler was going to Clinton Park, near the river and the piers. He stepped up his pace. It would be harder to track Tyler once he got to the park. He was already too far ahead for Matt to pick up his heartbeat. As Matt arrived at the entrance to the park, the tapping of Tyler's cane suddenly stopped. Matt cocked his head, focusing. The sounds of the park were all around him, but he couldn't pick up Tyler's footsteps or his voice or the tapping of his cane. Anxiety knotted his stomach. He rushed into the park, hoping to pick up the trail again. Nothing. He had lost him. If Tyler wasn't using his cane, it could only mean he had met someone – someone who was guiding him. It had to be Wright.

Breathing heavily, Matt stood in the middle of the path, oblivious to the annoyed stares and mutters of passers-by. "Damn it," he swore, clenching and unclenching his fists. _"Goddamnit."_ Finally he pulled himself together and started asking random people if they had seen a blind boy and his father. Most of them ignored him. The few who answered grunted a "no" and hurried past him. Finally, someone remembered seeing them walking toward the playground. Matt took off in that direction, frantically asking more people along the way. No one had seen Tyler and Wright. When he arrived at the playground, he couldn't spot them. They were gone. "No, no, no, no, no," Matt whispered. This couldn't be happening. He slowed his breathing, trying to clamp down on his anger – at himself as much as Wright. Several minutes passed before he was able to look at the situation objectively. When he did, he had to face the fact that he'd failed. He had one chance to prevent Wright from taking Tyler, and he'd blown it. Tyler and Wright were long gone. It would be a waste of time to keep looking for them in the park. He decided to go back to the office. Maybe Foggy or Karen could figure out a way to find Tyler.

Foggy came out of his office when Matt walked in. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Wright got to Tyler," Matt said, grimacing. "I was following him, and I lost him. I should've been closer. I am such an idiot. Goddamnit."

Karen joined them. "What happened?" she asked. Matt explained how he had followed Tyler and lost him. He was pacing back and forth and becoming more and more agitated as he spoke. "You need to calm down, Matt," she told him, "this is _not_ your fault. And we need to come up with a plan."

"Great," Matt said sarcastically. "And I suppose you have a plan?"

"Uh, well," Karen began, scrambling to come up with something. "I just found a photo of Wright. I'll send it to Maggie, and she can show it around. Maybe someone will recognize him."

"Good idea," Foggy said.

"But that's gonna take time," Matt objected. "We need to find Tyler – soon."

"Do you think he's in danger? Is Wright going to hurt him? Karen asked, sounding worried.

Matt shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, Wright's his father, but we know the guy has anger issues. Look at what he did to Mrs. Shelby. Plus, he's probably never spent any time with a blind kid." Matt shrugged. "So we don't really know what he might do."

"Damn," Foggy said grimly.

Karen emailed the photo of Wright to Maggie, then called her, putting the phone on speaker when the nun answered. "Oh, dear God," Maggie said, after Karen told her what had happened. "I'm calling the police."

"No, not yet," Matt ordered.

"Why not?"

"If the cops get involved too soon, it'll turn into a real shit show. It could put Tyler in danger. I need to find him first, make sure he's safe."

"How?"

Karen spoke up before Matt could answer. "Did you get the photo of Wright I emailed you?"

"Hang on." Keys clicked in the background, then Maggie said, "Yes, yes, I have it."

"You need to show it to everyone at the orphanage, the school, and the church. Someone may recognize him," Matt said.

"Yes, yes, I'll do that, right away." Maggie ended the call.

She called back an hour and a half later. "Sister Ann recognized him," she said. "He's one of the cleaning crew that works here and at the school. He's new, just started working here two weeks ago."

"Do you have a name?"

"Bill something," Maggie said. "Hang on. Here it is – Bill Simonson."

"We need an address," Foggy said, "somewhere to look for him."

"Just a minute. We require the cleaning company to give us contact information on all of their employees who work here." Maggie's chair squeaked as she got up and pushed it back. A drawer opened, and paper rustled. "Got it. Bill Simonson –" She read off an address in Hell's Kitchen, a few blocks from the school.

"Sit tight," Matt said. "We'll call you when Tyler's safe."

"Wait, what are you going to do?"

"Pay Mr. Simonson a visit."

Karen turned off the speaker and ended the conversation. Then she Googled the address and pulled up a satellite view of the location. She described it to Matt. "North side of the street, fourth building west of 10th." A couple more clicks, and she added, "Looks like the apartment is in the back."

Matt nodded. "Got it. I'll call you when Tyler's safe. Then you call Mahoney. Not before."

Karen and Foggy were quiet for a moment. Probably more non-verbal communication. Then Foggy said, "OK."

Matt grabbed his jacket and his cane and hurried out of the office.

* * *

Wright popped open his fourth beer of the evening and sat down on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him. Tyler was curled up in an armchair across from him. The boy yawned. It was past his bedtime. Down the hall from the living room, a bedroom window opened almost noiselessly. Dressed in all black and wearing his mask, Matt slipped into the apartment. He put his burglar tool in his back pocket, then closed the window as quietly as possible. He stood next to the window for a moment, his head turned to the left, getting a read on his surroundings.

In the living room, Tyler was talking. "Hey, Dad, do you think I could have self-defense lessons? Matt said – "

Wright cut him off, "What did I tell you, boy?"

Chastened, Tyler replied, in a small voice, "That he's a bad guy. He's not my friend."

"That's right. And don't you forget it."

"But – "

"No 'buts' about it," Wright interrupted roughly. "He's a lawyer, right?' Tyler nodded. "That means he's a liar. All lawyers are. They take your money and promise to help you but don't do shit. And he told you he grew up at the orphanage?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"That's another lie right there. No way he could be a lawyer, growing up in that shithole they put you in. I bet he's not really blind, either. He wants somethin', and he's lyin' to you to get you to do what he wants. Or that nun put him up to it."

"Sister Maggie?"

"Yeah, her. The people at the school, they say she's a real ball-buster."

Tyler fell silent, taking in what his dad had told him. Then he said, "OK. But can I still have self-defense lessons?"

Wright chuckled indulgently and reached across to muss Tyler's hair, startling him. "We'll see," he said.

As Wright and Tyler talked, Matt crept down the hallway toward the living room. Wright spotted him as soon as he appeared in the archway between the living room and the hall. Wright sprang up from his seat on the couch and charged. Matt sidestepped him, then leaped and twisted, landing a kick solidly in the middle of Wright's chest. Wright wobbled but didn't go down. He raised his left arm and came after Matt. There was something different about Wright's left arm, Matt noticed. It was too thick and too heavy. There was a cast on it. Wright must have been the man who tried to snatch Tyler last week. He attacked, using the cast as a club. Matt dodged and parried his blows and managed to land punches to Wright's jaw and kidneys. Then the cast connected with the right side of Matt's head, squarely on his ear. He staggered back a few steps, clutching both sides of his head. His right ear was ringing, effectively deaf. Disoriented, he felt a stab of fear and struggled not to panic. He needed to focus. He still had one good ear and his other senses.

Wright came after him again. He could hear his footsteps, smell his pungent sweat and the beer on his breath, and feel the movement of the air as the man approached. His best option – his only option – was to get in close, where he could rely on his fighting skills instead of his senses, and cancel out the advantage sight gave his opponent. Wright swung the cast again, and Matt somehow managed to duck in time. This gave him the opening he needed, and he went in low, then stood toe-to-toe with Wright, landing multiple punches to his head. Wright finally went down and stayed down. Matt stood up and shook his head. The hearing in his right ear seemed to be coming back. He snapped his fingers to test it: definitely better. He pulled out his burner phone to call Karen. When she answered, he said only, "Tyler's safe. Call Mahoney."

Tyler emerged from the corner where he'd been hiding during the fight and ran toward the center of the room, his arms outstretched in front of him. "Dad! Dad!" he called out. He collided with a chair and bounced back. Matt went over to him and guided him to the place where Wright lay on the floor. Tyler ran his hands over his father's inert form, crying. Matt knelt down next to Tyler. He couldn't help remembering his younger self, discovering the body of his murdered father in a Hell's Kitchen alley. But there was one big difference: Wright wasn't dead.

Tyler raised his head and screamed at Matt, "You killed him!" He turned toward Matt and pummeled him on the chest, repeating, _"You killed him!"_

"No," Matt replied. "I don't kill people." He found Tyler's hand and gently placed it on the left side of Wright's chest. "He's breathing, and his heart's beating. Can you feel it?"

Tyler nodded. "Who are you?"

"I'm Daredevil."

"But – but Daredevil's only s'posed to beat up bad guys. Why'd you beat up my dad?" When Matt didn't answer, Tyler continued, "He's a good guy. He saved me! He said he was the one who got me out when the car was burning. He's a good guy." Tyler broke down, sobbing. He started pummeling Matt on the chest again, crying, "Get away from me!" He stood up and rushed toward the apartment's front door, where he collided with Brett Mahoney.

Mahoney caught him, saying, "Hey, buddy, it's OK, you're safe."

Matt nodded in Mahoney's direction and loped away before more officers arrived. As he made his way across the rooftops toward his apartment, he mulled over Tyler's statement that Wright claimed to have pulled him from the burning car. Its implications left him shaken. Wright was at the scene of the crash. Worse, he had to be the other driver, the one who ran the Shelbys' car off the road. Damn, Matt thought, this was going to hit Tyler hard.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

"That's awesome. Great work, Brett." Foggy ended the call and strolled across the room to Matt's office. It was two days after Wright's arrest. Foggy stuck his head inside the partition and asked, "You hear that?"

Matt raised his head and took out his earbud. "Uh, no," he said, "I was focusing on – " He waved his hand in the general direction of his laptop.

"You're not gonna believe this," Foggy began. "That was Mahoney. Travis Wright just admitted he ran the Shelbys' car off the road."

"No shit. How'd Mahoney manage that?"

"This is where it gets even better," Foggy said, sitting down on one of the folding chairs across the desk from Matt. "The cops got a warrant to search his phone, and they found photos of the Shelbys, date stamped with the date of the crash. And Tyler told them Wright claimed to have rescued him from the burning car. So Brett confronted him with the statement and the photos. Then he told Wright they knew he'd done it, but maybe there was an innocent explanation, like maybe he didn't want to hurt anyone, he just wanted to scare them."

Matt leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head and a tight grin on his face. "Classic."

"I know," Foggy agreed, with a bigger smile than Matt's. "That's gotta be one of the oldest tricks in the book. And Wright fell for it."

"And it's admissible, right? No _Miranda_ or Sixth Amendment issues?"

"Brett says it's solid. He has video of the whole thing, including the _Miranda_ waiver. And he got Wright's signature on a waiver form, just to be sure."

"Thanks for the good news, Fog," Matt said absently.

"Yeah, it _is_ good news. So why don't you seem happier about it?"

"It's Tyler." Matt rubbed a hand across his forehead. "He has to be hurting – hurting bad."

"You haven't talked to him?"

"No. I'm on his shit list, thanks to his asshole father."

* * *

A week later, Matt was at his desk, trying to contain his irritation at the ridiculous settlement offer that had just appeared in his inbox. His phone announced, "St. Agnes, St. Agnes . . . ." He toyed with the idea of ignoring the call but instead steeled himself to answer it. "Matthew Murdock," he said, in his most clipped, business-like voice.

"Please don't hang up, Matthew," Maggie pleaded.

"I'm listening."

"Tyler needs your help. He's having a hard time dealing with, well, with everything that's happened."

"Has he asked for me?" Matt asked.

"No."

"Then how, exactly, am I supposed to help him? I'm pretty sure I'm the last person he wants to talk to right now. You must know what he was saying about me."

"I know," Maggie admitted, "Sister Mary Alice told me – with pleasure, I might add. But I've talked to him, and I'm not so sure he still believes it. And, honestly, I'm out of options."

Matt sighed. He could imagine Maggie's "talk" with Tyler. But if she was calling him, she must truly be out of options. "All right," he said, telling himself he was doing it for Tyler, not for her. "I'll be there after school lets out."

Tyler was already waiting in Maggie's office when Matt arrived. "Hey, Tyler," Matt said quietly. "It's Matt."

Tyler turned around in his chair. "Matt?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"What're you doing here?"

Damn. Hadn't Maggie told Tyler he was coming? "Sister Maggie asked me to come see you," Matt replied. "You don't say 'no' to Sister Maggie."

"Yeah, you don't. No way," Tyler agreed. Matt thought he heard a smile, or the beginning of one, in Tyler's voice. It was a start. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket. Then he pulled up a chair, hanging his jacket over the back. He sat down, facing Tyler. Waiting him out had worked before. Maybe it would work again. It took several minutes, but Tyler eventually spoke up. "You know, my dad said you're not my friend," he said tentatively.

"So I've heard," Matt replied carefully. "Do you believe that?"

"I used to," Tyler admitted, "but I don't think that anymore. Sister Maggie, she said . . . ." His voice trailed off.

Matt understood. "I'm happy to hear it."

Apparently Tyler had said all he was going to say about that. But something else was on his mind. "Daredevil found me at my dad's. Did you know that?" he asked.

"Yes, I know."

"Does that mean my dad is a bad guy?"

Matt shrugged. "I don't know, Tyler."

"But doesn't Daredevil only beat up bad guys? "

"That's what they say."

Tyler considered this for a moment. Matt could almost sense him trying to work things out in his mind. "The cops say my dad's a bad guy, too."

"They do."

"But he saved me from the car, when it was burning. How can he be a bad guy?"

"It's not that simple. People aren't all one thing, all the time. Sometimes good people do bad things, and sometimes bad people do good things. I think you know this already."

Tyler nodded. "I know. But it's – complicated."

"You have no idea, kid," Matt said to himself. Aloud, he said, "It is. Can I tell you something?"

"What's that?"

Matt leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I didn't know your mom, but I think she must have loved you, a lot." Tyler nodded. "And she decided she didn't want Travis Wright to be a part of your life. I don't know if that makes him a bad guy. But she loved you, and she didn't want him to be your dad."

Tyler sniffed. "But he was my real dad."

Matt thought very carefully about what to say next. He didn't want to screw this up. "Just because you have his DNA, that doesn't make Travis your real dad. Your real dad is the one who tucked you in when you were little and you were scared of the monster in the closet. And when you were older, he taught you how to swim and ride a bike and hit a baseball – "

"Soccer," Tyler interrupted, "I played soccer."

"I bet you were good at it."

"I was," Tyler declared, "leading scorer two years in a row." Matt made a mental note to find out if there were soccer teams for blind kids.

"A real dad," Matt continued, remembering his own dad, "is someone who helps you with your homework, or makes sure you do it. Maybe he helps coach your soccer team. Travis Wright didn't do any of these things, Thomas Shelby did. He was your real dad."

"I guess," Tyler said doubtfully. "But it was only because my dad wasn't there. My mom made him go away."

"Your mom didn't tell you why Travis wasn't around?"

"No. She just said he had to leave. He told me he was working for the government in foreign countries, doing secret stuff."

Damn. Tyler didn't know. Matt stood up and went over to Maggie's desk. He leaned against its edge as he figured out what to do. He didn't want to be the one to tell Tyler the truth about his father. Too much shit had already been dumped on the kid. But Tyler needed to know. Matt sighed inwardly. It was better if Tyler heard it from him. He took a deep breath and said, as gently as possible, "Your dad – Travis – he wasn't working for the government. He was in prison."

Tyler sat up straight. "Prison?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

"He hurt your mom."

"No," Tyler cried, tears welling up in his eyes. "He wouldn't do that."

"I'm sorry, Tyler," Matt said gravely, "but he did." Tyler broke down, sobbing. Matt wasn't sure how to comfort him. He sat down again, facing Tyler, and reached out to him. He held Tyler's hands until the boy's sobs turned into sniffles. Then he found a box of tissues on Maggie's desk and put a tissue in his hand.

Tyler wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He was quiet for a few minutes, then he said, "My dad told me he was gonna get my eyes fixed, but he was lying about that, too, wasn't he?"

Matt's heart sank. "Yes, he was."

"Why would he lie to me about that?"

Matt was tempted to say, "Because he's a lying, manipulative piece of shit." But Tyler didn't need to hear that, not on top of everything else he'd had to deal with. Instead, he said, "Sometimes, people really, really want something to be true. And they say it because they want it to be true, not because it is true. I think Travis really, really wanted to believe your eyes could be fixed."

"But they can't."

"No, they can't," Matt confirmed sadly.

"But I don't want to be blind. It's too hard."

"I know," Matt agreed gravely. He _did_ know. It was different for him, of course, thanks to his enhanced senses, but there were still things he couldn't do, things he didn't know, things he missed out on. And blindness would be much harder for Tyler than it was for him. Don't sugar-coat it, he reminded himself. He thought for a minute, then said, "Even if it's hard, when you can't change something, you can learn . . . to live with it."

"I can't," Tyler protested. "It's too hard." He snuffled, holding back his tears.

"Yes, you can," Matt replied firmly. "And you will."

"I guess . . . um, I mean, maybe," Tyler said doubtfully. "I don't know . . . . " His voice trailed off. Then something else seemed to occur to him. "My dad, he lied about _everything,_ didn't he?" he asked.

"Pretty much, yeah," Matt said reluctantly, wishing there was some way to soften the blow.

"Is it true that he hit our car and made it crash?"

"Yes. He told the cops he didn't want to hurt anyone, he only wanted to scare your mom and dad. But he did it."

"I miss my mom," Tyler said miserably. He began to cry again.

"I know," Matt said quietly. Tyler sniffed, attempting in vain to hold back his tears. Matt was close to tears himself. Tyler's grief and pain had broken through the emotional walls he'd built up so painstakingly. And he was angry, too. Tyler was just a kid. He didn't deserve any of this. It wasn't his fault his father was an asshole. Wright would pay for what he'd done. The law would see to that. But Tyler would pay, too, for the rest of his life. Matt vowed to help him with that, starting now. And right now, Tyler needed to know he wasn't alone. Matt reached out gingerly and rested his hand lightly on Tyler's shoulder, while sobs shook the boy's thin frame. He gave Tyler's shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go.

Minutes passed. The sounds of Tyler's sobbing faded away. His heartbeat slowed, and his ragged breathing was replaced by slow, regular breaths. He dried his eyes on his shirt sleeve. Then he sat quietly for what felt like a long time. Matt was at a loss for words. He doubted anything he could say would make a difference. But he had to try. He said, "I know you probably won't believe me, but things _will_ get better. You're gonna be OK. You're strong. I have faith in you."

"You do?"

"Absolutely," Matt assured him.

"I wish you could be my dad."

Taken aback, Matt chuckled in spite of himself. "No, you don't." Then he realized how that sounded and said, more gently, "I can't be your dad, Tyler. But I'll be your friend, if you'll let me."

"For real?"

"For real."

"Cool."

On that note, the conversation came to an end. Matt walked Tyler back to his dormitory. When they reached his room, Matt said, "I'll see you soon," and started to make his way down the hall.

After he took a few steps, Tyler called out to him, "Matt?"

He stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

"Can I still have self-defense lessons with that lady in Chinatown?"

"You got 'em, buddy." Matt smiled to himself as he walked away.


End file.
